


But Dawning Day New Comfort Hath Inspired

by Yamx



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: End of Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-31
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-21 17:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamx/pseuds/Yamx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The universe has changed forever, because the man lying in his lap is not the same man he was clinging to when they both died.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Dawning Day New Comfort Hath Inspired

**Author's Note:**

> CO-AUTHORED with [Kae_nine](http://kae-nine.livejournal.com/).
> 
> This all started when [Kae_nine](http://kae-nine.livejournal.com/) wrote her own version of the Tenth Doctor’s upcoming regeneration in [The Rest is Silence](http://kae-nine.livejournal.com/48965.html). (We actually recommend you read the first story before this one). Yamx insisted that a sequel demanded to be written to see how Jack would cope with the new new new Doctor. Her brain was brimming with ideas, so [Kae_nine](http://kae-nine.livejournal.com/) suggested they write it together… and thus this story was born! This was written before we saw Matt Smith’s interpretation of the Doctor, so we know our characterisation is likely to be jossed come next spring.  
> With very many thanks to [Wendymr](http://wendymr.livejournal.com/) for her enthusiasm and helpful BRing throughout the writing process. Any mistakes left in the file are ours!  
> The title is from Shakespeare’s _Titus Andronicus_ (act II, scene 2).

With a gasp that feels like drawing molten glass into his lungs, Jack wakes up. He looks around. The same street. The same brick houses. The same tiny gardens. Everything’s the same, and yet everything has changed. The universe has changed forever, because the man lying in his lap is not the same man he was clinging to when they both died.

A sharp pain stabs his heart. Secretly, some part of him had hoped that his life force, his _factness_ , would somehow prevent the Doctor from changing, give him more time with the man he never really had a chance to know. But the limp form in his lap is a stranger.

He slowly sits up, careful not to dislodge the head in his lap. This is the Doctor, and he’ll take care of him as much as he can, as he always has, as he always will, until he loses him for the last time.

The first thing he notices is the face. Impossibly young, with smooth, pale skin and prominent eyebrow ridges. He wonders what colour the eyes are. A wild mop of brown hair still, he sees with a smile. The Doctor will like that. If he still likes stuff like that.

His eyes wander down. The frame is still tall and lanky, though the chest seems a bit broader than it was. If the Doctor’s clothes weren’t mostly in shreds, they might sit very tightly on this new body. The hands are not as large as they were, but still thin and elegant, poking out of singed pin-striped sleeves.

“Like what you see?” he hears a strange and slightly amused voice ask. Startled, he looks back at the Doctor’s face. His eyes are open now, and they seem to look right into Jack’s soul. Brown, like last time, but darker, warmer. They are old eyes. Much too old for a face that means he’ll still have to show ID every time he tries to buy a drink. He seems to be running his tongue over his front teeth with a somewhat puzzled expression.

“Doc! How are you?”

“Feel like I’ve die-” The features suddenly turn serious. A few wrinkles that seem out of place on such a young face appear on his forehead. “Well, I don’t need to tell you, of course. You have done this more often than I.” His accent, too, seems incongruous – old-fashioned RP, the kind you barely hear from anyone under the age of sixty anymore. His enunciation is careful and deliberate – he sounds almost like a schoolmaster of yesteryear.

The Doctor looks around them. Following his gaze, Jack notices people peeking at them through windows, some with phone receivers in their hands. “Guess we should get out of here.”

The Doctor nods. “That seems wise.” He painfully tries to push himself upright. Jack helps him into a sitting position and lets him lean against his shoulder.

“Can you make it?”

“I very much think I shall have to, Jack. Unless you fancy carrying me to the TARDIS.” He turns his penetrating gaze on Jack. “Which I do not doubt you would do if it proved necessary.” There’s a small smile that makes Jack’s heart constrict. “Still, let’s see if we can get me mobile, hm?”

Jack slowly gets up, pulling the Doctor with him. He chuckles, and feels questioning eyes on him.

“I’m finally taller than you,” he explains.

The Doctor grins, and for a moment, Jack can see his old Doctor in this face. Both of his old Doctors. “By about an inch, my boy. Hardly counts.”

“That’s not what you said when you had an inch on me,” he shoots back, and gets a small nod of acquiescence. Then the Doctor’s face turns into a puzzled frown.

“I… I don’t remember where I left the TARDIS.” He looks at Jack helplessly. “Regeneration sickness. I may seem quite… strange to you for a while.” A rueful smile. “More so than usual.”

Jack nods. “Don’t worry. I came up with something a while ago.” He pulls his TARDIS key from the hidden compartment in his wristcomp – he notices the Doctor look at it with a smile – and touches it to the scanpad. “Now, I’ve never tested this before, but I think I should be able to…” A bleep, and a little blue arrow appears on the display and points down the street and to the right. Jack grins. Looking up, he sees the Doctor is grinning, too.

“Clever work, lad. I always knew you had great potential.” He hesitates. “Though I don’t suppose I told you that nearly often enough.”

Is that shame in the Doctor’s eyes? Regret? Confused, Jack decides to ignore it for now – these might just be after-effects of the regeneration, after all. He puts an arm around the Doctor to stabilise him. “Lean on me as much as you need to, okay?”

“All right. Lead on.”

Jack hesitates. “What about the Master? Don’t we need to-”

“No need to worry. It’s dealt with.” A sad smile. “My last self didn’t die in vain.”

Jack nods. That, at least, is good to know. He’d known the Doctor was making progress when people turned back into themselves, of course, but he would not feel the world was safe if that maniac was still on the loose. He doesn’t ask any further questions, just sets off down the street.

The Doctor puts an arm around his shoulders to lean on him more heavily. “I’ll… I’ll explain later, all right? Right now, my memories are still… But they’ll clear up eventually, and then I’ll fill you in on the details.”

Explain? Fill him in on the details? Either the regeneration sickness is really making the Doctor not be himself, or this new version of him has an openness that neither of the previous two had. He finds himself fervently hoping it’s the latter, but tries not to get his expectations up. Early days. Hell, early minutes. The Doctor hasn’t been this man for even a quarter of an hour yet. He’ll have to wait and see. They both will.

But whoever he is, this man who’s leaning against him and carefully picking his steps toward the TARDIS, Jack swears that he’ll be with him and support him for as long as the Doctor allows him to.

  


*****

Shorter legs, a somewhat squatter body, an impressive mass of hair – and after his previous regeneration, that’s saying something – apparently of a deep brown shade, falling back over his forehead. He’s still not ginger this time around. That’s all the Doctor manages to determine over the short minutes it takes them to walk back to the TARDIS. His suit feels skimpy, but even if he still had the build of a grasshopper, the appalling state of his coat and jacket would’ve put him off wearing that outfit ever again.

As they turn into a tiny alleyway, the TARDIS suddenly appears out of the shadows. The Doctor’s hand, streaked in his own blood, rests against the door for a few moments. Each sensation is a new experience, and he takes the time to explore every indent and bump of the wooden panel. His new hearts race against his chest as he steps inside, the familiarity of the ship’s console room a welcome relief as he struggles to get used to all the newness of himself.

He’s not leaning against Jack anymore, but he can feel his friend’s presence close behind him. When he takes off his soiled coat and throws it over one of the coral struts supporting the ship’s structure, Jack swiftly catches the garment and keeps it close to his chest. A wave of nostalgia over the Doctor’s previous face? He knows that the Captain was rather openly attracted to his tenth incarnation.

“I need a mirror,” he calls to the man who’s still following him like a shadow and clutching his coat like a child’s security blanket.

A smirk answers his request. “Bit vain for a Time Lord to worry about his face, don’t you think?”

His lips stretch into a sincere smile. Now that’s weird. Jack’s comment should’ve irked him, but he’s merely amused. He’s never failed to respond to teasing before, especially coming from one of his long-time travelling companions. Jack himself seems taken aback by the lack of outraged reaction. Is he really tired, or is this new him the sort of man to take that kind of observation without a tit for tat retort?

Right. A mirror. There’s one in the huge room that he uses as a wardrobe, but that involves climbing up several flights of stairs, and he’s in no shape to do that, even if he leans heavily onto Jack again. His gaze settles on the Captain and a stray thought crosses his mind. There have got to be a few mirrors in the lad’s former room. In fact, he wouldn’t put it past Jack to have corrupted the TARDIS into covering the ceiling with more mirrors than a nineteenth century French brothel.

His ship hasn’t lost her sense of humour. She’s placed the door to Jack’s old bedroom right on the edge of the console room, and as if that wasn’t enough of a hint, the door has been left ajar in open invitation. He turns away, sending a mental rebuke to the TARDIS for her questionable suggestion.

There’s a small pocket mirror in Jack’s outstretched hand. The Doctor grabs the item with an enquiring look and a bit of a smirk. “Now who’s vain?”

“You’re not the only one with big pockets,” Jack says defensively.

But the Doctor’s attention’s not on Jack any more. His reflection is somewhat different from what he expected, though he was mostly right about his hair. Dark eyes, full mouth, fair complexion and rather delicate features. It wouldn’t be too bad, but he can’t help but notice that he looks even younger than his previous regeneration. Barely out of his teenage years, actually.

“How is anyone supposed to take me seriously now?” he complains, running his new fingers through the long strand of hair covering part of his face. The image in the mirror flickers. Pins-and-needles prickle his nerve ends, a hazy fog blurs his vision, the console room sways in a slow waltz around him…

… and Jack’s arms wrap around his chest. Dizzy and disoriented, legs folding under the pressure of his own weight, he blinks as he fights to stay conscious.

“Doctor? Doctor, you all right?”

He opens his eyes. The room’s moving again, and then mercifully stills as Jack props him up against the console.

“I’m perfectly fine,” he lies, another wave of dizziness making his head fall forward. Darkness closes around him again, but Jack’s voice brings him back sharply. “This sort of thing happens. Especially when I’m struck by how attractive I look.”

“That’s no joking matter,” Jack scolds as a breath of regeneration energy escapes the Doctor’s mouth around a cough.

“Need to lie down.”

Wide eyes and a teasing smile answer his weak mumble. “Why, Doctor. I thought you’d never ask.”

“No joking matter, you said?”

The TARDIS, though, is still in a playful mood; she hasn’t moved Jack’s room back where it belongs. Unaware of the Doctor’s earlier concerns, Jack’s already half-carrying, half-dragging him towards the slightly open door. When they step inside, the Doctor can’t help but lift an apprehensive gaze towards the ceiling. No mirrors. Relief wars with unexpected disappointment, and he pushes the disturbing thought out of his mind. His muscles still benumbed by the change, he lets Jack help him lower himself onto the bed.

“We’ve got to get you out of these clothes. They’re filthy.” Jack tactfully doesn’t mention the blood.

He nods, but Jack seems to hesitate. Is that embarrassment colouring his cheeks?

“Is it okay if I…” He waves a hand in the general direction of the Doctor’s fully clothed body.

“Tell me, Jack. How many times have you dreamt of doing this?”

Jack’s dumbstruck look is the only reply he gets. _He_ is the one flirting. Is that a new character trait? Stepping into Jack’s territory is hardly the best of ideas, he belatedly decides. The ground’s slippery enough between them as it is.

No time to shilly-shally, though. Jack’s already taking care of his clothing – or what’s left of it. Shoes, socks, trousers, jacket, shirt; every last item is methodically removed until he’s wearing nothing but skimpy underwear. His strangely hairless chest – and he hasn’t missed the look of appreciation on Jack’s face as he peeled his shirt off – is smeared with dried blood.

Jack’s eyes are back on his face as he asks “Do you want to shower?”

He hesitates. A shower would be great. But he doesn’t think his legs could hold him that long. And while Jack would probably be more than willing to prop him up… “Not right now. I believe I need to get some rest first.”

Jack nods and straightens. “Right then. Leave you to it.”

On impulse, he reaches out and grabs Jack’s hand. “Stay.”

Jack looks at him, raising an eyebrow.

“You just died, too. Because of me.” A rueful smile. “I suspect neither one of us really wants to be alone right now.” He pats the bed beside him. “It’s more than big enough – hardly surprising, seeing as it’s yours.” A teasing grin that turns into a look of entreaty. “Share? We could both do with some sleep.”

“Sleep?” Jack nods. “Yeah. Okay. Sleep’s okay.”

The Doctor is surprised by Jack’s hesitancy. Maybe the Captain doesn’t find this new body attractive? But that’s not what his eyes seemed to indicate earlier. Anyway, he’s getting too tired to talk, or even think. He can feel leftover regeneration energy coursing through his body, draining him. He just needs some rest. He lies back on the bed and watches as Jack does the same, pulling the duvet over both of them.

“Sleep well,” Jack murmurs, and the gentleness in his voice makes the Doctor’s hearts fill with warmth towards this man, who’s stood by him through so much, died for him so many times. He never treated him the way he deserved in his last life, did he? But now, he’s a new man, a different man, and he has a chance to do better.

He slides his hand across the duvet and curls it over Jack’s, squeezing gently. “You too,” he says, before he feels his eyes drop shut.

  


*****

When Jack wakes up, the first thing he notices is that the other half of the bed is empty. He looks around and sees the Doctor standing in front of his wardrobe, naked. He’s critically peering at his reflection in the full-length mirror. Jack chuckles. “Looking for anything in particular?”

The Doctor briefly glares at him. “No, all present and correct, thank you very much.”

Jack sits up and looks the Doctor up and down openly. He must have taken a shower while Jack was still asleep – the blood and grime are gone. “Are you feeling better?”

“Somewhat. I’ll still need quite a lot of sleep for a while, but being in the TARDIS helps.” He turns around and cranes his neck to look at his back in the mirror.

Jack can’t suppress a grin. “Now that’s a nice view right there.” He expected a glare or a protest, so he’s very surprised when the Doctor just nods.

“It is indeed. It’s just... I haven’t looked this young since I actually _was_ this young. And that was almost nine centuries ago.”

Jack gets up and walks around the bed to stand by the Doctor. “Are you unhappy with this body?”

The Doctor shrugs. “To be frank, I don’t quite know what to think.” He turns to Jack, and there’s a sparkle in his eyes. “What’s your opinion? You’re the expert, after all.”

Jack’s reply is completely serious. “I don’t care what body you’re in. I’ll always find you attractive.” Taking a step closer, he adds with a grin. “But this is certainly a handsome package.” He means it. He’s been attracted to every body he’s ever seen the Doctor in – and a few he only knows from photos – and this one is certainly no exception.

The Doctor smiles. Suddenly, and without a word of explanation, he leans in, clearly intending to kiss Jack. Full on the lips – and, apparently, with quite a bit of heat. Jack shakes his head and takes a step back. The Doctor looks baffled, and there’s hurt shining in his eyes. “I thought you wanted-“

“I do. God, I do. But not now.”

The Doctor cocks his head in question.

“I’ve had a lot of time to study you, Doctor. Read a lot of files, talked to former companions… I know what regeneration sickness can do to you. You’re not yourself right now. I’d be taking advantage.”

The Doctor laughs. “I do know my own mind, lad. I may be a bit woozy, but I’m not insane. Well, no more so than usual.”

But Jack stands firm. If he lets the Doctor do something now that he’ll regret later, he might lose his friendship for good. It’s not worth it – not even for a fantasy he’s been nursing for over a century. “If you still want to then, ask me again in a week. I won’t even consider it before.”

There’s a strange look in the Doctor’s eyes – a mixture of sadness, respect, and deep appreciation. The Time Lord leans forward and gives Jack an entirely chaste peck on the cheek. “I appreciate your wanting to protect me.” He takes Jack’s hand and squeezes it gently. Jack notices him swaying slightly and puts his other hand on the Doctor’s elbow to steady him. The Time Lord yawns. “I think I should get back to sleep, anyway. Maybe later, I’ll go to the wardrobe room and search for a new look. You could come.”

The invitation’s unsettling and more than unexpected. Is the Doctor welcoming advice on the choice of his next outfit? Or something more? Before Jack can determine what the suggestion entails, he finds himself nodding. The Doctor’s open affection goes beyond what he’s ever dared to dream. This is, after all, the man who abandoned him because he was _wrong_. Has he changed that much? Or is the shift in his behaviour purely down to regeneration sickness? Is he going to switch back to the caring but distant friend he’s always been?

The Doctor’s leaning heavily on him, his closeness and the combined smell of clean soap and the new fragrance that is him a pleasant distraction from Jack’s concerns. He’s drawn a line between them, though, and it’s a line he won’t allow himself to cross until he knows for sure that the Doctor is in his right mind. Until then, he’ll have to rein in his libido.

As he pulls the blanket over his friend’s naked body, he realises how difficult it will be not to give in to the Doctor’s advances if he stays too close. He straightens, ready to leave, but the Doctor’s hand closes around his in a firm grip.

“Stay. Please.”

Carefully, almost worriedly, he searches the Doctor’s face for any hint that the request is another proposition and wonders idly when and how – and especially _why_ – he became so noble.

“I won’t… what’s the current vernacular? ‘Shag you rotten,’ is that it?”

The expression sounds anachronistic in the Doctor’s mouth, and Jack waffles between ignoring the suggestive comment and flirting back in kind.

“Well, that’s a relief,” he answers with an exaggerated sigh as he settles on the other side of the bed. A leopard cannot change his spots, after all. “I was afraid you were still out to ravish me.”

His head propped on his pillow, the Doctor turns towards him, a slow smile spreading on his very tempting lips. It’s hard for Jack not to wonder – albeit briefly, before he can quash the disturbing thought – how different those lips would feel against his.

“Oh, don’t be so sure, Jack. I certainly will. But I’ll respect my end of the bargain, and wait.” Then he frowns. “That means I’ll have to use all my charms to convince you to stay until then.”

“That’s true…” For a moment, he contemplates the possibility that’s suddenly offered to him. He’s always turned down the Doctor’s offers to come back aboard the TARDIS. His life in Cardiff tied him to the time and place where he had friends, a lover… a family.

It’s all gone now. There’s nothing left. Nothing’s holding him on Earth or in the twenty-first century. The truth is, he’s spent the past few months trying to run as far from Cardiff as he could, permanent bleakness oppressing him no matter where he went. Every blond-haired child was Steven, every man dressed in a suit was Ianto. No matter where he went, his memories travelled along with him, never giving him a moment’s peace.

“Won’t take much for me to accept your offer this time,” he says at last.

An unfamiliar hand reaches for his under the blanket, and warm, brown eyes look straight into his face. “Whenever you’re ready, Jack, you’ll have to tell me what happened to you.”

There’s no pressure in the Doctor’s words, and for the first time since the 456 left Earth, Jack doesn’t feel the irrepressible need to run. The Doctor squeezes his hand a little more tightly.

“You stayed,” he murmurs, close to Jack’s shoulder. “You knew I was going to die, that it would kill you.”

“What are friends for?” His voice is shaky as he answers, but he hopes the Doctor is too tired to notice.

“You knew it was going to kill you and you didn’t care.”

Jack shrugs. “Not like it’d stick.”

“Nevertheless.” The Doctor presses an entirely chaste kiss to his temple. “Thank you. It’s better. Not dying alone.”

Jack turns his head to look into those deep, unfathomable eyes.

“Living’s better when you’re not alone, too,” the Doctor says with that open smile that seem entirely new to this regeneration. “Stay with me. Please. Let me prove to you that I can be a good friend, too.”

“You are.”

“Haven’t been. But if you give me another chance – if you give _this_ me a chance – I give you my word I’ll do better. I will repay the loyalty you have shown me. And the-” He clears his throat. “But that’s a topic for next week.”

Jack feels a warmth rising inside him that he’d forgotten about. He trusts the Doctor. He believes. And he belongs. “Yes,” he simply says. “Yes, I’ll stay.”

The Doctor smiles and puts his head on Jack’s shoulder and they drift off to sleep. Together.

  


– The End –


End file.
